


Eyes on Fire

by Black_Betty



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, M/M, POV Outsider, Photography, Porn With Plot, Smitten Charles, Smitten Erik, Voyeurism, and feelings still somehow snuck in, brief almost non-existent reference to past child abuse, this is the filthiest thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Betty/pseuds/Black_Betty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this excellent (paraphrased) prompt on the kink meme:</p><p>(http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/9701.html?thread=21536229#t21536229)</p><p>Every once in a while, fashion tycoon Emma Frost invites her favourite male models over to entertain her. And by "entertain", I mean she makes them have kinky consensual sex in front of her....Emma never touches herself when she watches, but she always has a glass of wine with her. Emma likes it best when they eventually forget that she's watching.</p><p>Charles and Erik meet each other through Emma...</p><p>(I've taken some liberties with the prompt, but all the sex is still there, and it's wholly consensual...and gradually, becomes more than just sex...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> DEDICATED WITH LOVE TO THE OP--YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE <33333
> 
> I'm almost done writing this, so I figured I'd start cleaning it up and re-posting it over here for posterity...I should (hopefully!) be finished with it some time this weekend :D

> _ Although sleep pressed upon my closing eyelids,  _
> 
> _ and the moon, on her horses, blushed in the middle of the sky,  _
> 
> _ nevertheless I coul d not leave off watching your play;  _
> 
> _ there was too much fire in your two voices. _   
>   
> 
> 
> ~ Propertius Sextus [  
> ](http://quotes.dictionary.com/author/Propertius+Sextus)

Something was different.  
  
Emma was someone who prided herself on her power of observation. It was something more than the telepathy. It was a skill born out of years under the unrelenting strict thumb of her mother, of perfect posture on austere couches and fading marks on white skin that could be hidden away under silk shirtsleeves. Emma discovered from the time she was a young girl how to watch, how to _learn_ , and how to use all of these things to her advantage. It was less a matter of ‘never let them see you cry’ and more ‘make sure they bleed before you ever cry again.”

So with all those years of training, with her telepathy sharpened to a fine razor edge, it was easy in the warm familiar light of her bedroom to see that something fundamental had shifted between Charles and Erik.


	2. Part Two

 

She remembered the first night she had brought Charles and Erik back to her apartment.

Emma always made a point to be present for the first meeting. Usually her participants were complete strangers, and if there wasn’t chemistry, or attraction, she never forced it. There had been times before when the air crackled with discomfort, Emma’s telepathy grating against the churning of awkward thoughts and second guesses. She had always paid them and sent them on their ways with a brief kiss, a smile and no hard feelings.  
  
That wasn’t a problem with Charles and Erik. She should have guessed as much. Charles had been a favourite of hers for a long time and was a nearly insufferable flirt. She had used him again and again in a countless number of commercial campaigns, cardigan sweaters stretching over his broad shoulders, sunlight glinting off the perfect auburn waves of his hair. Even the warm sepia tones of a Ralph Lauren spread or the black and white of Guess were not enough to diminish the spectacular quality of his eyes, his mouth.   
  
Charles was beautiful in an unsymmetrical way that shouldn’t have worked on film. He was too short, had too many quirks, too many freckles, but somehow the camera managed to capture everything that made him special and amplify it. He was, if possible, more beautiful in real life and impossibly charming. There was a spark of light in him that drew everyone into his orbit. Emma used him as much as she possibly could, would do so even if he didn’t have that spectacular quality in front of the camera, if only for the way he made everyone around him brighter just for being in proximity.  
  
She had wanted to invite him into her bedroom the very first time she saw him through a viewfinder, but she had never been able to find the exact right person to match him up with.

At least, not until Erik.

Erik was relatively new to her universe, a former runway model who recently branched over into high fashion editorials. Emma did one shoot with him, leather and chains, his perfect body bound and still dominant, a cut of ice in his eyes that she responded to as though looking into a mirror, and decided in an instant she wanted him for all her high-fashion shoots. It helped that he was tailor-made for modeling, unbearably photogenic, long legs and sharp cheekbones, and a shoulder to waist ratio that was a genetic miracle.   
  
He was stern and professional, and Emma might almost say cold and taciturn if she hadn’t been so observant. As it was she saw the subtle upward curve of his mouth, heard the shading of humor in his words and understood there was more to Erik Lehnsherr than most people caught at first glance.   
  
And as she leaned in closer to capture the light reflecting off the planes of his body, bare-chested except for suspenders, his hair slicked back, the tight tailoring of his pants revealing the exact dimensions of his body in ways that made something animal shudder inside her, she knew that she wanted him for Charles. That she wanted Charles and Erik together, in her bedroom, as soon as possible.  
  
She just had to convince them.

It was almost too easy. Charles had eagerly jumped at the chance, had heard of Emma doing this from time to time, and had bashfully admitted that his ego had been bruised when she hadn’t ever asked him to participate. Charles was a telepath himself, and though he was strong enough to keep Emma out, he was nothing if not always embarrassingly honest with her. His thoughts when she had extended the proposal had been glowing and warm, pulsing with a pink blush of arousal.  
  
Erik had been a bit more difficult to persuade. He had misunderstood at first, had been defensive and angry, his thoughts strangely disappointed in her. Normally she didn’t push farther than the initial inquiry. Most people she approached were more than willing to participate, but the odd time someone refused, she was fine leaving it alone. She didn’t get off on forceful or dubious consent, appreciated much more the flavour of sex coming from two people who were genuinely and enthusiastically enjoying themselves.  
  
But she thought about Erik and Charles spread out over the blank canvas of her bed, thought about how all their odd angles would compliment each other, how Charles was soft where Erik was sharp, thought about pale curves under golden lines of muscle, thought about light and shadow, and how Charles might make Erik smile a real, genuine smile. So she asked again, laid out the arrangement in no uncertain terms: one night and no more unless all parties chose to extend the arrangement. A sum of money, if desired. Full disclosure. The ability to stop at any time. No pressure, hard limits. A promise of, at the very least, one night of nothing but pleasure.  
  
Erik had calmed as she explained, and in the end, had readily agreed. She wasn’t sure what exactly changed his mind, but she wasn’t willing to push into his head to find out, not when she had him just where she wanted.  
  
Still, there had been an aura of nervous tension radiating from him as she escorted him to the broad double doors of her penthouse that first night. He showed nothing on the surface of his face, the lines of his mouth calm, his forehead smooth, but she could taste his sudden doubt like sour fruit at the back of her mouth.   
  
She slipped her arm into the crook of his arm and pushed the door to her apartment open, guiding him inside. She could feel Charles within, his excitement already rattling around in her head, and thought maybe if she could just get them to meet Erik might be able to relax.  
  
And when she was right, she was transcendently right.

She left Erik standing by the doorway, his shock hanging palpably in the hair as she crossed the room to kiss Charles in greeting. She would have thought, considering their profession, they would be used to seeing absurdly attractive people by now, but the air thickened with an intense and immediate arousal that nearly blindsided her.   
  
Even without her telepathy she would have been able to sense the immediate attraction between the two of them. It was obvious in the way Erik’s hand lingered in Charles’ as they introduced themselves, the way Charles admired Erik’s legs as he crossed one over the other as they sat and spoke and drank a tart white wine, the alcohol flowing through them and mellowing the room down into a comfortable warm haze.  
  
When she suggested that they move things into the bedroom, there was no doubt or discomfort, only a giddy eagerness that reminded her more of lusty teenagers and clandestine kisses in parked cars than two men in their late 20s.  
  
She settled herself into the wide, high backed chair in the corner of her bedroom, watched them take in the broad bed, the white sheets, the high molded ceilings and enormous fireplace, and drank in the rising arousal and tension, more delicious than the second glass of wine clasped loosely in her hand.  
  
When their attention turned from the bedroom back to each other, she watched them examine one another with interest, caught the way Erik's eyes returned again and again to Charles' mouth. The next step was simple.  
  
“Undress yourselves,” she said, and Charles grinned, fingers flying to his buttons, Erik quick to follow with his own clothes once he caught the first glimpse of a pale collarbone. Naked, finally, Emma took a moment to admire them, precious and beautiful in their own ways, like fine art in the blank canvas of her room. They only had eyes for each other, but they didn’t touch, as per her instructions, just stared and quivered in anticipation, gazes wrought with wonder, lust and appreciation. She drew it out until none of them could stand it a moment longer and said,  
  
“Charles darling, on your knees,”

They both moaned, and Emma reveled in giving them exactly what they wanted, watched Charles drop gracefully to the plush carpet, push in close and lick a slow line up Erik’s gorgeous cock. They angled themselves so that Emma had a perfect view, could see Charles’ full red mouth stretched obscenely over Erik as he swallowed him down, could see Erik’s stomach clench, his hips thrust minutely, could follow the line of his neck as his head fell back, and he groaned.   
  
When he came, his orgasm rushed through Emma and she had to shut her eyes against the pleasure of it, the unfettered twist of joy and desire and satisfaction. She opened her eyes again to see Charles swallowing and smiling wickedly, his cheeks and chest flushed in beautiful constrast to his skin, could feel Erik’s sudden and visceral need to claim him.  
  
“Emma—“ Erik choked, still gasping for breath as he came down from his orgasm, and Emma said,   
  
“Yes, make him come Erik, however you like,” and before the words were even out of her mouth Erik had grabbed Charles by his arms and hoisted him to his feet before tipping him onto his back on the bed. Charles bounced against on the mattress and laughed, and there, there was Erik’s echoing smile, as broad and sharp as Emma imagined it would be.  
  
Erik made Charles come with his mouth and hands ridiculously quickly, devouring him, gripping his hips in an iron grasp, and not letting him squirm away one inch, not even when Charles’ smug cheerfulness crumbled into begging and a hitched, sobbing moan. When Charles came it was like fireworks behind Emma’s mind, explosive and full of colour and light, and she couldn’t believe she had never had a telepath in the bedroom before, hadn’t known what she was missing until this moment as Charles’ orgasm ricocheted through her.   
  
When she came back to herself, she saw that her hand had inadvertently shifted to diamond and was clutching her glass of wine in an unrelenting grip. She breathed out and allowed her body to settle back into flesh, and looked to the bed where Erik and Charles lay next to each other, blissed out and panting for air.  
  
“Shall we meet again next week? Same time?” She asked.  
  
Erik had lolled his head over to look at Charles who laughed. There was no disagreement.


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a general heads up--because of the nature of this fic (ie. Charles and Erik having sex in as many scenarios as possible lol), there will be switching--meaning, they will both bottom (though Charles more than Erik). I know that's not everyone's thing, so if you don't want to see Erik getting fingered, skip this chapter...or at least skip to the latter half so you can still follow what's going on!
> 
> Everyone else: FULL STEAM AHEAD :D:D

 

After the inital success of their first time, they met again and again, the three of them coming together once a week in the quiet confines of Emma’s bedroom. Sometimes she would dictate their every move, conducting them like a maestro, their bodies the instruments of a slow, gorgeous symphony. On those nights she would draw out the pleasure for endless hours until Charles and Erik were begging for it, for each other, for one word of ascent from her mouth.  
  
Other nights she would give them free reign, sitting back and watching as they came together in a crash and flurry of limbs and groping hands, as they hastily stripped away clothes and sent buttons clattering onto the hardwood floor. It was then that she would sit and allow herself to get swept away in the simple, beautiful chaos of their lust and attraction for each other.  
  
One night in particular that stood out in Emma’s mind within that first month was when she returned to her apartment with Charles in tow at the end of a long, arduous shoot. She hadn’t allowed him to wash up or change, and so he was still in the skin-tight black trousers and white button-up he had worn while lounging around a darkly lit parking garage, his eyes rimmed in black, his mouth painted a more lurid red than usual.   
  
He looked delicious, and his mood sparked off her skin like tiny fireworks, eagerness and amorous excitement. As they reached her door she placed a hand on his chest and smirked at him, whispering “I have a surprise for you,” before breezing through the doorway and leading him directly to the bedroom, turning to catch his reaction.  
  
Shock was there, to put it mildly. Shock and a sudden burst of lust so powerful she reeled and had to grasp onto the doorframe to steady herself. Recovering and feeling smug, she turned to the bed where Erik was naked and lounging shamelessly above the sheets, his skin golden and flushed in the low light of the bedroom. Her fingers itched for her camera, but she suppressed the urge, brushed past Charles instead as she went to pour herself a drink before settling in her usual chair.  
  
“Hello,” Charles breathed, his eyes locked on Erik who merely smiled and stretched his toes toward where Charles was standing at the end of the bed. Emma watched as Charles' fingers twitched, as he curled them into fists to stop himself from reaching out.

Without looking away from Erik he sent a shimmering question mark in her direction, along with a semi-pleading _Emma…?_  
  
“On your stomach, Erik darling,” Emma responded out loud, devouring the way Erik rolled elegantly over, resting his head on his folded hands and looking over at her, the smooth lines of his back tapering into the muscular curve of his ass. She dragged her eyes away to look at Charles again, who was fiddling with his buttons.  
  
“Charles,” she said, and when he looked at her she shook her head no. He huffed but left off unbuttoning his shirt, which gaped appealingly, putting freckled collarbones and the smooth pale lines of his chest on display. “There’s oil on the side table,” she said, and once Charles had retrieved it, sent him a few brightly coloured suggestions of what he might do with it.  
  
Charles, wicked thing, had teased Erik for hours, rubbing down every inch of his glorious body, Erik’s spine and the line of his shoulders easing into the mattress until he was more relaxed than Emma had ever seen him. Once Charles had soothed him nearly to the point of comatose, he began working Erik open with his fingers, paying close attention to the way Erik moved and reacted, cooing praise at him, the luscious sound of his voice filling the room and winding around all of them like smoke, like liquid chocolate. When he pinpointed Erik's prostate, he began massaging there in careful pulses, slowing to a near maddening stop when Erik seemed about to tip over into orgasm. Finally he let him go and Erik shouted Charles’ name into Emma’s satin pillowcases, coming in one long, aching release.  
  
Erik slumped boneless and sated into the bed, and Charles fumbled with his trousers, peeling them down just enough to get his cock out, gripped himself tight and stroked himself with oiled fingers until he came all over Erik’s back and the dimples just above his ass. The picture they made was breathtaking: Erik slick with oil and come, golden and naked, Charles with his darkened lips and eyes, black leather stretched obscenely over his splayed thighs. Emma closed her eyes and imprinted the image onto her brain, waited until the beat of her heart slowed to a steady rhythm before coming back to the real world. 

There was something strangely perfect about Charles with Erik and Erik with Charles. More than once she closed the door behind them at the end of one of their sessions with a congratulatory pat on her own back for her divine perception in pairing them together. And it went beyond aesthetics, and how good they looked together.  
  
Charles, so constantly smug, always with an answer for everything, was for the first time since Emma met him reduced to absolute incoherence under Erik’s hands. Erik was unrelenting when it came to sex, doling out as much pleasure as he possibly could, ignoring Charles’ squirming and begging and wringing every last drop of sweat and come from his body. But there was also the way he moved purely on instinct, animal where Charles was cerebral. As a telepath herself, Emma knew how hard it was to surprise one but Erik had a way of catching Charles off guard, and the small gasps of surprise he shocked out of Charles were as delicious as they were unfeigned.   
  
Charles took to sex with the same lightness and humor he somehow found in every aspect of life. When he tumbled Erik into bed, laughing as their elbows jostled, or when a kiss aimed for Erik’s mouth went awry and landed on his nose instead, he brought brightness and colour to Erik’s face, and a begrudging smile to lips that seemed unused to any kind of happiness. And then there was the time when, as they basked in the afterglow of a particularly enthusiastic round, Charles had praised Erik’s many attributes in a number of increasingly horrible and perverse limericks. It was the first time Emma heard Erik laugh, loud and unfettered and completely, embarrassingly free.  
  
So she wasn’t surprised when Erik called her one afternoon soon after they began to make their nights in Emma’s apartment a regular occurrence.  
  
After a few moments of awkward, forced small talk, Erik finally blurted,  
  
“Is Charles seeing anyone?” Alone in her office on the other end of the line, Emma rolled her eyes.  
  
“Why don’t you ask him?” She knew for a fact Charles hadn’t had a relationship in years. Hadn’t been involved with anyone seriously since before she met him.  
  
“Am I…can I call him?” he asked after a pause, uncharacteristically hesitant, “That isn’t against the rules?”  
  
It surprised a laugh out of her,  
  
“No of course not you idiot. I don’t _own_ you. Outside of our arrangement you’re allowed to do whatever you like.” Erik huffed and hung up on her. He hated when she called him an idiot.  
  
Less than five minutes later he was calling her again.  
  
“Do you have his number?”   
  
That time, she hung up on him. 

 


	4. Part Four

 

Evidence of conversations occuring outside the bedroom was immediately apparent. The first time they came to Emma's apartment after Erik asked for Charles’ number, they arrived together, leaning into each other, sharing a smile and a secret joke. The sex that night had been full of light and a beating rhythm of laughter and joy. Emma didn’t begrudge them the new intimacy, their inside jokes—it made the wash of emotion more intense as they rutted together on the bed in front of her, waves of a new excited pleasure reaching out and engulfing her where she sat in her usual chair.  
  
The next rendezvous, however, was something different altogether. Erik knocked on Emma’s door ten minutes early, a thundercloud of grey emotion circulating around his head. He frowned and nodded at her tensely, then shoved past and headed straight for the bar.   
  
He was swallowing down a large glass of whiskey under Emma’s amused eye when Charles arrived promptly at the prearranged time. For once her smiling, dazzling Charles looked pale and angry, the lines of his face pulled sharp and taught. Never had she seen him so visibly upset, unable to draw the mask of pleasant banal happiness over his emotions.   
  
She handed him a glass of wine without a word, stood watching as they both drank and looked pointedly away from each other, ignored Charles when he asked how her day had been.  
  
“We don’t need to do this tonight,” she said instead, watching them carefully for their reaction, throwing a telepathic net over both of them to gage the mood. There was anger there yes, and frustration, but still a thrumming, vibrant lust that pulsated beneath the skin, not stronger than before, but different. Almost violent. 

Erik glanced at Charles and then away again, pouring himself another two fingers of whiskey,  
  
“ _I’m_ fine,” he said shortly, and she watched as Charles’ mouth thinned as he pressed his lips together, forced a smile in her direction and said,  
  
“Yes, let’s proceed, shall we?”  
  
In the bedroom they stood farther away from each other than ever before, for the first time looking steadily in her direction as opposed to being drawn inevitably into each other’s orbits.   
  
Emma took a slow drink of wine, contemplating how best to proceed.   
  
“I want you to strip,” she said, instilling in her voice a low vein of authority. When their hands came up to their belts, the buttons of their shirts she continued, “each other.”   
  
There was a long pause, and a flare of something that might have been frustration, but felt more like arousal. Finally Erik turned with preternatural speed and gripped Charles roughly by the collar, turned him to face him and began tearing through his buttons. Charles, caught off guard for a moment, merely stood and allowed his shirt to be ripped from his body before he came back to himself with a stubborn clench in his jaw, his hands going to Erik’s belt and undoing the clasp with a loud jangle, whipping the leather from the belt loops.

There was a pause once they got down to their briefs and then Charles pulled Erik sharply forward by the hips, reached into his underwear and pulled out the heavy weight of his cock, gripping him lightly for a moment. Erik bit his lip against a gasp as Charles released him, skinned the briefs down his legs and knelt before him to pull them off one foot at a time. He looked up at Erik, leaned in with his mouth wet and open to breathe hot air over the base of his cock before getting to his feet and stepping away with a smirk.  
  
Erik scowled and came at him, shoved a hand down the back of his shorts to grip his ass roughly, making Charles gasp and stretch up onto his toes, falling against Erik’s chest before pushing back, his cheeks red with annoyance. It was Erik’s turn to smirk as he palmed the curve of Charles’ backside, the sight of his hand moving but obscured by the material of Charles’ underwear more arousing than if it had been bared completely to her sight.   
  
Finally Erik released him and pulled down his shorts with less of a tease than Charles had offered him, throwing them carelessly over his shoulder. They were looking at each other now and no one else, bodies already flushed with arousal, chests panting for air, like two boxers in the corners of the ring waiting for the bell to strike and the fight to begin.  
  
The anticipation was delicious and she let it simmer for a moment, watched them stare each other down, no less formidable for their lack of clothes.  
  
“Charles,” she said finally, “I want Erik to fuck you.” A sharp spike of lust rocketed through her, and she couldn’t tell who it was from, could only see Erik smiling sharply, Charles cheeks redder than before. Erik moved to the bed, hesitated for a moment when she continued “Erik, I want you on your back," before reaching for the side table where Emma kept the lube.   
  
“No,” she said, taking a sip of wine, and settling deeper into her chair, “Charles is going to prep himself tonight.”   
  
They’ve done this before, Charles fucking Erik, and Erik fucking Charles, but she’s never had one of them watch as the other prepares himself, and never before has there been this undertone of aggression, this simmering frustration and barely restrained hateful lust.   
  
If it were anyone else, she might worry about the vulnerability of the position she’s putting him in, but not Charles. Charles made it a show. He knelt on the bed next to Erik and wet his fingers, eased himself open with a moan. His body rocked into the penetration and he bit his lip, stretched himself with two, and then three fingers, panting for it, locking eyes with Erik and radiating a self-fulfilled pleasure that washed over Erik and Emma both.  
  
Emma could tell when Erik was about to break, his hands clenched into the sheets, his teeth grinding together, his mind screaming _want_ and _take_. She prodded at Charles, whispered a gentle reminder and rebuff into his mind which made him grin at her over his shoulder before he moved, finally, to straddle Erik on the bed.  
  
He had barely settled himself before Erik grabbed his hip with one hand, held his cock steady with the other and eased himself into Charles with a swift thrust that made them both groan aloud. Erik didn’t give Charles a moment to adjust, just gripped him tight with both hands and started to steadily thrust up into him, making Charles shout with shocked pleasure.

Charles bounced on his cock for a minute, boneless, his face creased in an expression of bliss before he bit his lip hard and visibly pulled himself back together. Bracing himself against Erik’s chest he ground back against him to throw off his rhythm and make him moan, rolled his hips to take his own vigorous pleasure. Emma could feel Erik fight for control, the metal handles on the large wardrobe rattling under his power.   
  
They pushed and pulled against each other, each grappling for control, fingers digging bruises into flesh, sweat streaking down flexed muscles as they moved against each other, skin and bone colliding, the sound of their breathing loud and hypnotizing in the otherwise silent bedroom.   
  
Emma could feel the tension rising like an approaching siren, distant and pervasive and rising in volume until it filled the room with a silent wail, thick and piercing and thrusting them all uncontrollably forward. She no longer had any control over the situation, could only watch ensnared they fucked each other, viciously fucked on the soft white linen of her bed.  
  
Erik tried unsuccessfully to roll Charles over, Charles thighs flexing deliciously as he kept him in place, moving faster still, his head tipping back, his mouth falling open. Emma watched as Erik clenched his jaw, and moved again, got enough momentum this time to flip Charles over onto his back, throwing one of his legs over his shoulder and driving into him. Charles grunted and got his other leg around Erik’s waist, hauled him in and held his body close, pinned and pinning Erik in turn, fighting with him until Erik trapped his wrists against the bed. Charles scowled as Erik started moving again in short thrusts, lunged up despite being held captive and kissed Erik brutally, fucking his tongue inside his mouth and biting down hard on his lip.   
  
Erik fought for control of the kiss but was lost to it, released Charles wrists so that he could grip his face, kissing him deeply, thoroughly, the movement of their bodies completely stopped as they gripped each other close and devoured each other, kissing infinitely and wetly while locked together in every way.  
  
Emma watched them and tried to remember if they had ever kissed before. They must have over the weeks, but looking at them now she couldn’t ever remember them doing it, at least not like this. Slowly Erik began to move again, kissing Charles and fucking him in the same rhythm. They weren’t fighting now, they were moving together, and the tension was still there but grinding itself out in a new outlet.   
  
Erik pulled back and they stared at each other, something hot still simmering between them, and Emma took the opportunity to peer into Erik’s head, hid her smile behind her glass when she heard what he was shouting beneath his stern, unreadable expression.   
  
Charles shields were so high Emma was certain he wasn’t picking anything up from anyone, and so she said,  
  
“Erik, tell Charles what you’re thinking,” Erik’s rhythm stuttered and he pushed himself off of Charles, propped himself up on stiff arms and started to thrust again, angrily.   
  
“Emma,” he said, a warning in his voice, and she leaned back in her chair, folded one leg over the other.  
  
“If you don’t tell him sugar, I will.”

Erik fucked Charles harder, and Charles braced himself against the headboard, his arms stretched back, his body arched as he gasped at the increase in pressure. He looked up at Erik, his eyes guarded but curious and finally Erik, without breaking rhythm, grit his teeth and spit out,  
  
“I was thinking that Charles is the best fuck I’ve ever had.” He said it begrudgingly, like it was being forced out of him, and Emma smiled. It wasn’t even exactly what he was thinking, but it was close enough. What was actually spinning through his mind was anger about how unfairly beautiful Charles was, how infuriating he was, how he has never wanted anyone so much, and at the same time wanted to shake the stupidity out of them.   
  
Charles snorted derisively.   
  
“Erik, you’re already having sex with me. You don’t have to blow smoke up my arse.”  
  
Erik’s expression darkened and he picked up his pace, fucked Charles with brutal, deep strokes that made him writhe and scrape his fingernails across Erik’s shoulders,  
  
“Maybe if you actually used your telepathy,” he said, his voice low and angry, “instead of being ashamed of it, you would know that I was telling the truth.”  
  
Charles stared at him, shocked, and then Emma felt his mind break open, Charles’ miraculous brain pouring out frustrated rage and hurt and lust and arousal and latching onto Erik’s thoughts just as Emma was, and seeing the truth there, and the desire, and something more. They all moaned with the weight of it, the shared emotions, and suddenly all three of them were coming, simultaneously.  
  
When the wave of bliss had receded, Emma was still dripping wet between her legs, her skin aflame, her body shaking with second hand pleasure. Erik was collapsed on top of Charles on the bed and slowly he pushed himself up, gingerly pulled out, making them both wince. He flopped down on the bed next to Charles, and after a beat, shifted and rested his head on Charles’ shoulder.   
  
“Well,” Charles said, his eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. He reached up and ran his fingers through Erik’s hair, combing it back off his face, “maybe you were right about using my telepathy more often.”   
  
Erik hid a smile in Charles’ shoulder, said, “I’m always right.”   
  
Emma watched as Charles tensed, and then rolled over, pinning Erik beneath him and biting him swiftly on the cheek to make him shout.   
  
“Not always darling, but I’ll give you this one.”  
  
Emma watched as they wrestled playfully, tangling themselves in her sheets and generally making a mess of things. Leaning back she poured another glass of wine and congratulated herself on a job well done. 


	5. Part Five

 

Thinking about it now, the change seemed obvious. Emma remembered Charles coming to one of her shoots with Erik, how Charles kissed him briefly while Emma set up her equipment, how he lingered behind the camera and smiled as Erik complained about his too short trousers and dangled his long legs off the back of abandoned train car.

She remembered how the following week Erik was haunting the background of one of Charles’ jobs as well, though with less good humor. It was a promotional campaign for Stark Enterprises and featured Tony Stark smirking and seated in the centre of a massive red velvet couch, Charles, and an assortment of other models draped around him in red and gold. While Emma knew that Stark and Charles were old friends, she didn’t think Erik appreciated or understood the way Tony’s hands lingered on Charles’ backside when he hauled him close and tucked him under his arm against his body.

Emma watched the way Erik’s hands folded into fists, how they clenched tighter each time Tony made Charles laugh loud and bright, when he buried his face into Charles’ carefully disheveled hair and smiled for the camera. She called for a break and casually strolled over to where Erik was adopting a nonchalant air by the craft services table.

“My place tonight?” she murmured, selecting a piece of melon from the tray and eating it in two careful bites. From the corner of her eye she saw Erik look at her sharply.

“It’s not our night tonight…” he said folding his arms across his chest.

She shrugged,

“Are you busy?”

Across the room, Tony Stark’s distinctive laughter rang out. Erik and Emma both turned to look and saw Charles demonstrating something with elaborate hand gestures and a grin on his face, Tony stretched out across the couch with his head in Charles’ lap.

Emma could almost hear Erik’s teeth crack as he ground them together.

“I’m free.”

***

Later that night she had them undress each other again. Unlike the night they had been so angry they tore at each other’s clothes with an underlying aggression, there was instead a kind of reverence. A quietness. Charles stood completely still and gazed up at Erik, watched his face closely as Erik slowly undid his shirt button by button. Erik took his time sliding it off his shoulders, running his fingers down the back of Charles’ arms as it went, leaving Charles’ hands pinned in the buttoned shirt cuffs. He held him there, fingers circled around Charles’ wrists, and they looked at each other until Charles’ eyelashes fluttering shut as he leaned in to kiss Erik softly on the mouth.

Once Charles was completely bare, pale and lovely in the low light of the bedroom, Emma had him undress Erik as well, and it was done just as gently and unhurried. He took a moment, once Erik was out of his shirt to rest his head against his shoulder, his hands still moving to undo Erik’s belt between them, pressed a slow, lingering kiss against his chest before allowing Erik’s pants to fall to the ground.

They stood naked and gorgeous in the center of the room, swaying undeniably into the other’s aura. Erik slid a hand around the back the Charles neck, ran a gentle thumb across the line of his collarbone that made Charles’ mouth curl into that secret smile meant only for Erik.

The room had seemed to draw close in the quiet, the intimacy settling over them like a warm blanket. When she asked Charles to get into the bed, Erik followed as though drawn irrevocably in his shadow. She sent a mental pulse in his direction, an invisible touch on his shoulder and when he looked over at her she smiled slowly and shook her head, beckoned at him to come to her.

Reluctantly he cast one more look at Charles as he settled himself on the bed before turning and crossing the room, a scowl creeping in around his normally staid expression. Emma took a moment to admire him in motion, sinuous muscle flexing, his cock half hard and swaying with each step. When he arrived at her chair she wallowed in the crackling annoyance that seeped out through his every pore, and reached into the folds of her silk robe to show him the gift she had bought especially for him.

When she opened her hand, she watched his expression change, saw the gleam of metal catch in his eye and reflect something deep and intrinsically animal deep inside him.

He reached out and she felt the three metal balls vibrate in her palm, but before he could lift them away from her she closed her fingers tightly around them.

“Come and kneel,” she said, tilting her head toward the empty carpet by the side of her chair, “so you can tease our boy from here.”

Erik hesitated for only a moment before falling to his knees at her side, lifting the metal from her palm as he settled himself, both of their gazes now directed toward Charles who was lazily stroking the fingers of one hand gently over his chest and then down further across his stomach to make himself shiver.

Erik allowed the metal spheres to orbit his own naked body first, spun them round and around before sending them over to Charles. They hovered over him for a moment before settling themselves on his skin, rolled them up his chest and over his nipples where they circled slowly until Charles gasped and bit his lip. Erik took them, one at the time, and rubbed them across Charles’ red mouth until he parted his lips and allowed them to dip inside. Charles moaned slightly as they pressed down against his tongue and rolled through the wet heat of his mouth, pursed his ridiculous lips around the heavy weight of them and licked at them until they were dripping.

Erik’s mind was imagining that mouth on his cock, sucking the length and breadth of him and swallowing him down. Emma looked at him and smirked, watched his cock swell and twitch, fully hard now and aching for a touch, though Erik kept his hands outstretched, his mind and body concentrated on the touch of metal and the way Charles responded to it.

Erik allowed one ball to remain on Charles’ tongue and another to keep teasing his nipples until they were tight and red. He slipped the third into Charles ass, rubbed it back and forth, vibrating it slightly to make Charles squirm and slowly roll his hips, looking for more pressure, more movement, gradually growing more desperate.

Emma glanced away from the show back to Erik by her side. He was stoking himself with one hand, but his own gratification seemed secondary to Charles. All of his attention was focused across the room, his own arousal a thready afterbeat to Charles and the way he moaned, the way he turned his flushed face into the pillow as Erik slipped the second ball inside him and then the third.

The metal toys were beyond her sight now, but Emma could see the way Charles’ eyes widened, watched him moan and grab his own hair in tight fists suddenly mindless in a buried pleasure, his gaze fixed solely on Erik. When watching was not enough, she stretched out her telepathy and tapped into him, and was abruptly overcome. She was awash in his emotion, the wave of it so intense that her head knocked against her chair with a thump, her eyes rolling back in her head.

She could feel the metal moving inside him, yes, pressing up against his prostate in a steady pulse so deliciously good he could barely stand it, couldn’t escape no matter how he moved his hips, his feet slipping against the sheets looking for leverage. But more than that, more than the pleasure trapped inside his body, was the incredible sense of _yearning_. It was so intense it nearly blinded her.

Skin on fire, his arms and legs aching and restless, Charles’ body was untethered and burning. The silk sheets on his body were agony and as he writhed atop them, he looked at Erik across the room with a fixed, unmoving gaze and longed for him with a throb of emotion to strong her own body ached with the echo of it. She pushed a bit farther, looking for some piece of her regular Charles, but found only whispers, everything in him overshadowed with a ceaseless beat, an unending rhythm of sound endlessly repeating one word.

“Charles,” she said, surprised at how hoarse her voice was, and both of them startled as if astonished to find someone else in the room with them. “Charles,” she said again, “project to us darling--now, if you can.”

Charles didn’t even look in her direction, only chewed on his lip and furrowed his brow, clenched at the sheets in a rhythm matching the thoughts that suddenly flooded through Erik and Emma both like fanfare.

_Erik. Erik. Erik. Erik. Erik._

Erik choked, and fell forward onto one hand, his arm shaking to support his weight. Before Emma could stop him or assert some control he was stumbling across the floor and clawing his way onto the bed where Charles grabbed at him, cried out when their bodies pressed together.

And in that moment, Emma suddenly noticed that everything had changed.

Gone was the artifice, the show performed for her pleasure. Now they were kissing each other and barely coming up for air, holding each other close as Erik soothed Charles with heavy palms across his skin. It was clumsy and awkward, their bodies relaxed into pure sensation. It was as though she had ceased to exist, the two of them wound together, pulling back just enough to look at each other, Charles running his fingers slowly through Erik’s hair, Erik’s eyes falling shut, Erik removing the metal from Charles’ body and inelegantly slicking up his cock.

When he pushed inside, they waited and held each other, Charles leaning up to press one kiss on Erik’s forehead, another on his cheek. They kept each other close and began to move, slow and tight and intimate, and Emma felt her mind swept into the emotion building between them like an iron tower, and realized, finally, what this was.

This was love.

They were making love.

She felt for an abstract moment like an outsider in her own bedroom, strange and aloof until Charles’ telepathy spiraled outward like a shimmering net and she was completely ensnared.

Together the three of them rode the wave of that pulsing emotion up and up to an incredible peak and skated along its edge, pure joy and bliss and pleasure rolling over them until they were out of body and mind. Until they were suffused with a clear and bright ecstasy that pulsed and then burst into light, bodies slick with sweat and tight with pleasure, minds exploding outwards into the night.

It was only when Emma reeled herself back into her own head that she realized her body was hard diamond everywhere, the glass in her hand shattered into fine silver dust across her legs.

She breathed and allowed herself to settle back into flesh, watched the two of them on the bed, bodies still tightly entwined as they kissed languidly. She watched them and imprinted it on her mind: the easy way they fit together despite their rough edges and sharp corners, the perfect blend of their imperfections.

She carefully memorized the symmetry of their bodies, the chiaroscuro of their embrace, and knew this would be the last time they performed for her. She had a feeling that from now on, Charles and Erik would only be meant for each other.

 ***

After they were gone, after she placed a hard, lingering kiss onto both of their mouths and ushered them out the door with a smile and a lingering sense of rueful nostalgia that always came at the end of good things that were never meant to last forever, she stripped her bed and collapsed back onto her bare mattress, breathed in the lingering scent of sex.

She would miss them, though she’d still see them often on and off set, in front of the camera, or out for dinner, or quiet drinks in Charles’ sprawling estate. But she would miss them here, would envy them their private show. For a little while, they had been her masterpiece.

She sighed. Ah well. Onto something new. She always had her eyes open for new prospects. Another telepath perhaps? She closed her eyes and imagined red hair spread across her white pillows. Strawberries and cream. She thought about adding the clean, all-American masculine lines of the new Abercrombie swimsuit model, the one who always wore sunglasses. She frowned. It was too clean. Too safe. In her mind’s eye she added a wildcard--someone she had known for a long time, someone rougher, a little…animalistic. She wondered if she could convince him not to smoke in the bedroom.

She wondered how they’d feel about threesomes?

Something new. She smiled. She had a good feeling about this one—something new, and something fun. Something without strings. She had done her job a little too well the last time—but he didn’t think this next group would have the slightest chance of falling in love. Charles and Erik would be a notable exception, one for the record books.

And really, she should have seen it coming. She was a telepath, afterall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading!! This was actually one of the hardest things I've ever written, strangely enough!! Porn is hard! (IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE WINK WINK) Thanks especially to velvetcadence who originally prompted it on the kinkmeme and incepted my brain!! :D and thanks especially for all the encouragement -- I really appreciate it!


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